Coquettishly the veil was removed a little, and he caught a glimpse of Girzilla. Max was pleased. He felt his heart throb with delight. He almost envied Ibrahim, and yet he, a white man, could never marry a dark-skinned Arabian. “Why art thou sad?” Girzilla asked again. Max told her of the offense he had given. “If he be the Mahdi,” said she, consolingly, “he will not be offended. If he be not the Mahdi, he will not hurt my brother for fear of offending Mohammed, my father, and the illustrious Sherif el Habib.” “It is fair reasoning, my true one, my Girzilla. How strange that, through saving me, you should be restored to your friends.” “It is indeed. Oh, Max, my mother is lovely.” “I am glad you are so happy, and yet you will soon leave her and go with thy husband.” “I suppose so;” and Girzilla sighed. “Tell me, Girzilla, do you not love Ibrahim?” “Yes--that--I--what shall I say?” “Speak to me as a brother, dear one.” “As a--brother. Ah, yes--but art thou going away?” “Going away?” “To seek the last of the Mamelukes?” “I must. I feel that I would like to do so, but I have no one to guide me.” “I could instruct thee.” “Will you?” “Perhaps, but----” Fearing to say more, the girl ran away, leaving Max far happier than when she had joined him. He returned to his friends, and with that generous nature which characterized him, he sought out the Mahdi. “I was wrong to speak as I did,” he said, “but I am not of thy faith. You adopt the crescent, my sign is the cross. Mahomet did a grand work for your people, but my Savior is Jesus.” “He is one of our prophets.” “I know it. But let us not talk of faith or creed. You are beset with danger. Your enemies may league against you----” “They may, but they cannot triumph.” “Perhaps not. But if I can be of use to you while I am in the camp, I will fight under your standard, and if the English came----” “They will not.” “If they do, I will not leave you till the end. I am an American, and I would like to be able to tell the English to stay at home and mind their own business.” It was a long speech for Max to make, but the Mahdi could see it came from the heart. For several days the camp was undisturbed. “I shall remain here until the end of the rainy season,” said the Mahdi, “and then I shall march on Kordofan.” Mohammed and Sherif el Habib determined to stay with the new prophet, and to participate in what they believed to be his forthcoming triumphal march across the Soudan. Max began to love the Mahdi, for the man was essentially human, grandly sublime in his ideas, and, although undoubtedly a religious fanatic, an able man. That Mohammed Ahmed really believed he was the Mahdi, no one could doubt. In his own estimation he was no impostor. His asceticism, his study, his extreme self-denial, all tended to make him believe in his mission. But, although the Mahdi had faith in his divine authority, he was too good a soldier to neglect military precautions.